


The Noblewoman and the Fool

by FaultyParagon



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22431517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon
Summary: Therion isn't sure what to make of Cordelia. He doesn't like being used, but there's something about her rare smile that he can't quite ignore.-set after the battle against Heathcote in Ravus Manor in chapter 1 of Therion's story.
Relationships: Cordelia Ravus & Therion, Cordelia Ravus/Therion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	The Noblewoman and the Fool

**Author's Note:**

> I’m finally playing Octopath Traveler. Here’s a little moment I wanted to explore between Therion and Cordelia in chapter 1 of Therion’s story. This is my first fic with this game.

The Noblewoman and the Fool

“Any thief worth his salt should recognize that band.”

_I am going to destroy you._

The very blood in his veins boiled in rage and disbelief as he panted, chest heaving for breath. How could he have let his guard down? How could all of this have happened? It did not matter that this man, this butler ( _there’s no way he’s a mere butler- who is he?)_ had been a formidable foe. He knew better than to allow any opponent near him.

And yet, he had let this man place the very bracelet he had been avoiding all his life onto his own wrist. The metal almost burned upon his skin, the contact mentally searing his flesh. Instantly, he began to pull and tug at the metal, but it refused to budge- it was practically melded as one into his very being.

He was branded.

“The mark of a convict,” Heathcote continued, voice passive and soothing despite their exchange of blades. “The fool’s bangle, as some call it.”

Therion glared at the shining metal upon his wrist as Heathcote walked away. _The fool’s bangle. So this is what it feels like._

Heathcote’s voice lilted upwards, almost as if he was biting back a grin as he said, “Undeniable proof of a thief’s humiliating blunder.”

On instinct, Therion reached back, gripping the hilt of his dagger. “Get this _off of me!_ ” he snarled.

Heathcote turned back towards him, straightening up proudly. Despite his age, it was clear the older man had already recovered from their bout, while Therion’s heart was still thudding in his chest painfully. “I do not take my orders from you,” the butler replied. “I’ve attached it to your arm for a reason. If anyone is to see it, they shall know of your failure here today.”

His fingers tightened around his dagger’s grip. “Why, you-“

His aim was true. He could strike this man down if he tried-

Despite Therion’s clear rage, Heathcote remained composed. “However, I imagine your pride will not permit you to be seen with it. And that makes it perfect leverage for negotiations.”

_Leverage?_

Realization struck him like lightning, and he recoiled. _He has a job for me. This was all a trap._

At that, his remaining energy immediately dwindled in the aftermath of their battle. So too did his rage. He… he should have seen this coming eventually. It was his own pride that had led to his downfall. He should have run the moment the butler arrived in the treasure hall of Ravus Manor.

His heart pounded in his chest painfully for just a moment. _I… should have done a lot of things differently, eh Darius?_

It was almost pathetic in its irony.

He stepped forward. Carefully, he murmured, “…Negotiations?”

Suddenly, Heathcote stepped back, turning completely away from Therion. The thief’s grip on his blade relaxed in surprise. What kind of fighter turned their back to their opponent?

His question was quickly answered by strong, decisive footsteps echoing through the Ravus Manor hall. He lowered his stance, instantly pulling his sword and dagger into his hands, ready to fight against the reinforcements for whom Heathcote waited.

To his surprise, the figure which stepped out of the doorway leading to the rest of the estate was not an armed guard. Instead, in the afternoon light shining through the tall manor windows, a short bob of shimmering golden hair framing a petite, pale face appeared. Blue eyes watched jadedly from underneath a long fringe, the tiny figure stepping forward with all the world-weariness of an old, wary traveler.

The young woman stopped at last in front of Heathcote, clasping her arms in front of her sagely. She was clothed in a fine, yet simple, blue dress- even at a distance, Therion could see the detail work in the hems, in the embroidered seams. This was no servant, nor a soldier.

In a surprisingly deep voice, she raised her gaze to look at Therion and began to speak. The man winced in return- her stare was oddly deadened, empty. “You may have broken into my home, but for now I will overlook your transgressions.”

Steeling himself under her even stare, Therion stepped forward. “Oh, great,” he drawled. “More company.”

The young woman pursed her lips ever so slightly in amusement, stepping forward as well. “Pardon my belated introduction. My name is Cordelia Ravus, and I am the lady of the house.”

Therion examined her up and down, his revulsion growing. _This little thing is the one who owns this godforsaken, treasure-less manor?_ If that was true, then he had a bone to pick with the manor’s architect. “Regards to your decorator,” he muttered, irritated. “They sure have a way with traps.”

Sensing his anger, Cordelia stepped back, and Heathcote subtly shifted to stand between the two. Still, she said, “Allow me to explain.” And as Cordelia began to speak, her words struck two chords within Therion simultaneously.

The first elicited nothing but pure revulsion. Her story reeked with self-pity and frustration, masked almost clumsily with all of the glib and charm of a young noblewoman trying to get her way. Although it was clear she had suffered great tragedy- losing her family and subsequently being robbed of her family’s treasures was no laughing matter, it was true- she still carried herself with confidence, ready to play her part. Her eyelashes fluttered and her voice sank wistfully as she spun a tale of the dragonstones, her pleading eyes and round mouth forming the words that so clearly spelled the subtext of her request. Heathcote’s passive interjections, attempts to hide the truth, were utterly useless.

“We need your help,” she pleaded finally.

 _I’m going to use you to get what I want,_ her gaze implied.

But, as Heathcote stated so smugly, there was no choice but to comply. “If you collect the three remaining stones, we shall remove the band from your arm,” he said without a shred of remorse.

She tried to act as if it wasn’t malicious, as if her desires were innocent. Therion hated it.

“Don’t thieves often say, ‘the ensnared has only himself to blame’?” Heathcote chided.

Therion closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on- a dull pain growing behind his forehead with every heartbeat. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “they do.”

And yet, there was something else in Cordelia’s eyes which resonated within him. There was a glint of sorrow behind her gaze as she spoke of the stones, of her father’s death, and of the thievery that followed. There was helplessness and loss. Distrust.

Those were feelings he knew all too well.

_There’s no guarantee that they’ll remove the band if I get the stones back._

But he knew of fool’s bangles. They could only be removed by the one who had attached it. He couldn’t take Heathcote’s head- not yet. But, if the butler refused to follow up on his end of the bargain later, then Heathcote would meet Therion’s dagger again without remorse.

With a heavy sigh, he finally acquiesced. “I’ll do the job.”

Heathcote lit up expectantly, immediately stepping in to fill Therion in on details. The thief only half-listened, his gaze locked on the young woman across the hall from him. Despite her guarded nature, at his words, her face had positively lit up.

In that brief moment, as the waning sunlight flashed across her face and a smile pulled at her lips for the first time in their brief encounter, Therion found himself taken aback. Beneath her false veneer of aged wisdom and cunning, there was true youth there. Cordelia was, admittedly, beautiful.

It was her face which lingered in his mind as he stepped out onto the northern path out of Boulderfall that evening, ready to search for a hint of the dragonstones. A thick glove adorned his arm, blocking the glint of the fool’s bangle in the reddish setting sun. This journey was an entirely unwelcome one- his goal was to become a master thief, not some noblewoman’s errand boy!

Suddenly, a voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He bristled at the call of, “Mr. Therion! Mr. Therion, please wait!”

_Who the hell is calling me ‘mister’?_

To his complete exasperation, it was none other than Cordelia Ravus and Heathcote. “Ugh, what now?” he grumbled, reluctantly approaching them.

A shockingly sweet, earnest smile spread across the young woman’s face. “I came to see you off on your journey,” she explained. “As it is at my behest that you’re setting out.”

He tucked his mouth behind his red scarf just fast enough to hide his immediate sneer. “Look, I’m just fulfilling my half of a bargain. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She nodded, although there was a hint of sadness creasing her brow. “I understand that, but…”

Heathcote stepped in. “He’s right, m’lady. This is simply an agreement between us and a skilled, but… _short-sighted_ thief.”

Therion grimaced. “Exactly.”

Heathcote filled him in on the details of where to locate the first dragonstone, and the thoughts of having to enter Noblecourt sent shivers of distaste down his spine. _Great._ Before he could turn to leave, however, Cordelia stopped him one last time. “What is it _this_ time-“ he grumbled, facing her yet again.

The young noblewoman’s face was alight with concern. “Please…” she murmured, avoiding his gaze suddenly, “do take care out there.”

_Take care of yourself, mate._

It had been a long, long time since someone had wished him well, or since someone had seen him off. _That was a different life._

When he chuckled ruefully, Cordelia frowned, suspicious. “Did I say something amiss?”

He shrugged. “Never thought a man of my talents would be working for someone like…” He caught himself before he could let anything slip, turning on his heel to face the edge of Boulderfall. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he brushed off dryly. “You’ll get your stones back soon. Just leave the thieving to me.” With that, he began to walk down the dirt road, ready to make his way to Noblecourt and remove the bangle from his wrist once and for all. And as he made his way around the bend, he kept his eyes locked straight ahead, ready to face whatever challenges might come his way.

He could still perfectly see her young face in his mind’s eye, peering up at him in equal parts hope and doubt. _Cordelia Ravus, huh?_

But despite his fixation upon how the brilliance of her eyes just wouldn’t fade even in his imagination, Therion was still a thief- and a thief was always paying attention. So, when he heard those same light footsteps run to the fencing around Boulderfall and the same world-weary, mellow voice called out to him in the most earnest, honest voice imaginable, he didn’t react, continuing on his way down the lower canyon paths.

“Thank you, Mr. Therion! Thank you! Please… please be safe! I believe in you!”

But he heard her, and despite himself, he smiled.

_**-fin-** _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
